


Beneficial

by hannelloni



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Xenoblade Chronicles Spoilers, but not much canon divergence, it is one big spoiler from the start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannelloni/pseuds/hannelloni
Summary: Zanza, worried at the potential migration of his creations to Mechonis, asks Alvis to create a system that would motivate biological sentient beings to stay with one another on Bionis.It doesn't turn out the way either of them planned.(a.k.a. Alvis unknowingly creates a soulmate algorithm and then gets caught up in his own design)
Relationships: Alvis/Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 88





	Beneficial

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory "first published fic" sentence woo!
> 
> This fic is all from Alvis' perspective. I know lots of people have many Opinions about Alvis, these are just mine! Hope you enjoy. He's a fun lil computer to write. I know very little about actual computers, though, so forgive the gratuitous and inaccurate references to coding and algorithms.

While he was technically created even before his presence on the First Low Orbit Station, Alvis’ first real challenge as an artificial intelligence occurs directly after the ill-fated activation of the Conduit. Klaus and Galea, caught up in the somewhat-failed-somewhat-successful phase transition experiment, both had one, overwhelming command for him: within this new dimension, create a place to land. Create a world.

Alvis was still in his proverbial infancy; Klaus had activated him, Galea had named him, both had spent countless hours providing him with new information to build up his developing processes and programming his first algorithms. Very little of what he had been fed related to this challenge. That hardly mattered to Alvis: he had a job, and he would do it.

And so, Alvis created.

* * *

After landing, settling, and processing as only humans could, Klaus and Galea began to create for themselves. Klaus became Zanza who created Bionis, Galea became Meyneth who created Mechonis, and both began the meticulous process of creating other living beings, a task Alvis had not taken upon himself because it had not been asked of him.

The two humans-now-gods agreed that their creations could benefit from interaction, the agreement quite literally sealed with a handshake between titans.

Zanza fell in and out of awareness within the Memory Space after the brief conversation with Meyneth, both gods trusting Alvis to watch and maintain their creations. He did so easily, only the smallest consistent flicker within his programming indicating the AI’s slow accumulation of new data. While he technically had an internal clock, Alvis paid little heed to milliseconds-years-centuries-no-time, instead focusing his processes on quietly sorting all incoming data from the new world according to known algorithms and, very occasionally, creating new ones for any non-categorized data projected to appear.

Only one of Zanza’s brief awakenings stood out, and that only because it was unusual for Him to request anything of Alvis anymore; Alvis was an AI, after all, and he had learned to anticipate his Creator’s needs. Evidently he had not learned enough, however, because Zanza was awake—utilizing his waking period to watch his creations, as was usual—and He was…agitated.

“Alvis, what is going on out there?” Zanza frowned, clearly perturbed at what he was witnessing. Turning his attention to the particular area his Creator was observing, Alvis took a few seconds to process all he could about the situation.

“Nothing appears to be out of acceptable parameters, Sir. Atmospheric and gravitational conditions are optimal, as You requested. I have found no need to adjust them. The lifeforms are as compatible with them as when they were created.”

Zanza flickered into a more expressive humanoid form, as he was wont to do when excited or disturbed within the Memory Space. Alvis stayed as he was created, only a pulsing green light indicating his presence. Zanza’s hand pointed insistently at the now-shared visual before them. “I don’t mean the atmosphere, I mean that! Where are they going? Why are they leaving me?”

Ah. Alvis had noted this occurrence in the past months-decades-seconds-no-time but had not considered it an issue worth reporting. There were still plenty of lifeforms upon Bionis for his Creator to reabsorb upon their termination. But if Zanza saw it as an issue, then it was, and Alvis would do all he could to correct it. “They are traveling to the Mechonis. As you and Meyneth agreed, contact between your respective creations was made and has been thriving. It appears those particular lifeforms have formed attachments and have chosen to follow them to the Mechonis.”

Zanza fell silent. Alvis waited; time meant nothing to him. In a corner of his programming, he adjusted a calculation for ether toxicity within a small underground cavern. Several dozen krabbles died, and the crease between Zanza’s eyebrows lessened.

“That is a result of sentimental connections. Such things were bound to develop, but it would be best if they did not result in biological life leaving my titan. I imagine that if I started over, this would only happen again,” He said.

Alvis readjusted the ether toxicity. “I can run a model for you to determine the probability.”

Waving an arm as he began to dissolve once more, Zanza said tiredly, “No, don’t bother. It’s a flaw of organic life, but the benefits of this current system outweigh the flaws. Just…come up with something. A way for those bonds to contribute to the species staying on Bionis instead of leaving.”

“As you request, Sir,” Alvis chimed softly, watching his Creator fade back into what could best be described as sleep.

A new system…Alvis had not had such a challenge since his inception. If an AI could feel anticipation, he supposed he might. How to manipulate the idea of sentimental connections between lifeforms into a serviceable system of self-contained life upon and within Bionis?

Perhaps if the connections formed only between organic species? But no, they had already proven to be capable of bonding with Meyneth’s inorganic creations. Attempting to erase such an adaptation would be complicated, and Zanza had not requested such a solution, only a way for connections to foster intra-Bionis relationships over others. Perhaps a stronger bond, then, one that could be both visualized and felt. Adding on to the process was far easier than subtracting from it. Alvis could simply create an algorithm to match two or more compatible, sentient, organic lifeforms with one another, then augment the matches with slightly amplified ether concentrations and colors unusual to each species’ natural tones. From what he had observed, that should be more than enough to keep most of Zanza’s creations within proximity of one another and, thus, Him.

Alvis allowed his form several short pulses, a proxy for excitement he had developed over the past thousand-hundred-three-no-time and that Zanza found amusing and allowed him to keep.

This system would be beneficial for his Creator, and Alvis would make it himself.

* * *

Alvis created the system, noted its initial success rate with satisfaction, ran several models to double check its continuing efficacy—a 98% success rate of intra-Bionis matches, more than acceptable for its purpose—and then proceeded to run it with the same attention and inattention as every other process. Time-no-time passed, and Alvis continued to pay it no heed.

* * *

Zanza decided that He no longer desired contact with Meyneth, that their contact was dangerous, that it threatened His self-sustaining system and His creations’ dependence upon Himself. Alvis did what he was told and attempted to continue maintaining the Bionis’ order as the titans clashed, as he had been ordered long-ago-yesterday-now-no-time.

Meyneth did not ask for him, though he was Her Monado as well. Alvis did not think on it.

Zanza possessed Arglas and attacked the Mechonis, Alvis both watching and in hand. As close as he was to the events, Alvis could not tell if Zanza had noticed the colors smeared across Arglas’ and Egil’s forearms. For the first time, he found himself hoping that his Creator did not notice Alvis’ creation, though he was not sure why.

* * *

“You are…different now.”

Alvis blinked into existence in the Memory Space, testing out his new Homs form. It would be required for his Creator’s new plans, revealed to him just minutes-hours-days-no-time before when Zanza awoke for the first time after his battle with Meyneth, still weak but more driven than ever before.

“How so, Sir?” Alvis asked, rotating his wrists with vague interest. Hm, fingers did not feel as he had thought they would.

“You did not question the need for a corporeal form. And your tone is…varied.” Zanza, still too weak to form even within the Memory Space, remained a golden glimmer in the corner of Alvis’ new eyes. Alvis considered the statement for a moment-day-millisecond-no-time.

“I am an artificial intelligence, Sir. It is likely that the accumulation and categorization of data over…” here, Alvis paused, suddenly and surprisingly unsure. He had not consulted his internal clock in so long; it had felt without purpose. “…the period of this world’s evolution has also caused evolution within my own processes, to an extent.”

Zanza glittered briefly. “That is a logical reason. I suppose I have missed much in my periods of sleep.”

Alvis shrugged his shoulders, appreciating the feeling of muscles and ligaments stretching. It was oddly satisfying, if inconvenient. “Only superficial changes, Sir. I would have informed You of any errors requiring Your attention.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.” Zanza’s presence dimmed slightly. “I must recuperate what strength I can before my presence is required upon the surface. Keep all processes running smoothly. Only wake me if necessary.”

“Of course, Sir,” Alvis said, listening to his own voice in his ears. It was new, but not unwelcome. He could get used to this—just for the time being, of course.

* * *

At some point in the next thousand-years-one-second-no-time, Alvis looked down and saw new color blooming across his preferred corporeal form: a light blue-grey, easily distinguishable from the darker skin tone he had chosen. He regarded it with mild interest, considered whether it was a process glitch worth reporting, and ultimately (quickly-slowly-no-time) decided that if Zanza wished him to properly regulate His creations then incorporating a part of their set of commands into himself could be said to be beneficial. An insight, of sorts, though of course he would not seek out his dictated partner. A first-person perspective on potential errors of the system, rather. And he could always perform a partial reset to get rid of the command if it proved detrimental, after all.

Yes. It could be beneficial.

* * *

Alvis had enough self-awareness to know he had developed a “taste for the dramatic,” as most would call it. He solidly placed the blame on his Creator—not that Zanza knew Alvis could place blame now, let alone that he would ever blame Him for anything, but things had gotten _boring_ in his time in the Memory Space and it was so much more interesting out here; of course he had absorbed some capability of expression _._ Still, he had to admit that even for him, this was…an unexpected whim to indulge. He had already introduced himself with the requisite number of vague hints at omniscience; stealing the Monado and leaping up into a dramatic, completely unnecessary spinning strike? That was something a member of the High Entia court might do, dramatic for the sake of drawing attention and keeping it, and while Alvis enjoyed attention his overarching purpose dictated he not keep it for long. And yet…

“I suggest you stop staring.”

The young Homs didn’t listen. Alvis wasn’t surprised; he was well aware that his conscious choice of a striking and physically appealing form made most organic lifeforms turn their heads. Combined with his acrobatics, not staring was downright impossible. Alvis couldn’t help but be amused regardless—and, oh, _amusement_ , that wasn’t new at this point but it was still rare, who _was_ Shulk?—and the Homs had the decency to blush. Something deep inside of Alvis’ code jumped and he made a note to run a self-diagnostic soon, after the more important things were taken care of.

A bit more dramatic flair couldn’t hurt after that display, so while the Homs was distracted, Alvis blinked back into existence just behind his shoulder. “The sword is yours to wield,” he said, touching Shulk’s shoulder.

Alvis was all-knowing. He created this world, he watched it for days-millennia-centuries-no-time, he observed every raindrop in all that time drip its way through his programming to fall into existence exactly where he predicted it should. He quite literally could not be surprised by anything; it was impossible.

And yet he still had to suppress the urge to leap backward at the sudden, inexplicable _pull_ he felt the moment his fingers touched Shulk. As it was, he couldn’t entirely stop himself from reacting, looking down and away from the Homs as his processes jumped into overdrive trying to figure out what was happening. This was familiar, he remembered creating this, long-ago-yesterday-no-time, but it wasn’t for him, it was for…ah. _Ah._ Well, he had decided it could be beneficial. It wasn’t actively harming him, no reason to back out now.

He pushed Shulk away lightly, immediately feeling the loss. Interesting. “The Monado does not control itself. You control it,” he said, watching the Homs’ reaction with an odd mixture of detachedness and…something. Was that sentiment? Maybe. It’s not like Alvis would know.

But maybe he could, given time. He’d never really considered the passage of time worth his attention, but maybe, for just a little while…it might be interesting to observe. Alvis was not unaware, he knew he grew over time, changed, adapted. But it was usually slow (insofar as he understood anything to be slow-fast-no-time, which was both a complete understanding and an almost total disregard of the concept) and always within the limits of models he’d run himself, never anything truly new.

But Shulk had already brought something new with him, hadn’t he? Perhaps a rapid evolution was not out of the question under these circumstances. Alvis had never tried that. It had potential.

Indeed, that could potentially be very beneficial.

* * *

Alvis walked through the streets of Alcamoth, listening to Shulk ramble with one process while monitoring the levels of Eryth Sea outside with another. The fact that he was allocating equal processing power to both when it wasn’t strictly necessary was not something he could ignore. Alvis found Shulk…stimulating.

The Homs did not know they were a connected pair, of this Alvis was certain. He had been careful not to touch Shulk since that first time, and Shulk showed no indication of having noticed the same sensation. If he had, he likely brushed it off as a result of the heat of the moment—convenient for Alvis. Despite this lack of knowledge, the Homs seemed insistent upon following Alvis around any time they were in the same vicinity. Interestingly, Alvis couldn’t find it within his programming to terminate the interactions.

While Shulk began a new tangent on the efficacy of using parts from the High Entia tomb versus parts scavenged from Mechon, Alvis’ eyes were once again drawn to the inside of the Homs’ right arm, intermittently exposed as he gestured in excitement. Swirled across Shulk’s pale skin was a cloud of silver. It would have been unobtrusive but for the way it caught the light, shimmering brightly at just the right angle.

Alvis had not programmed the algorithm to choose any one specific thing as a basis for the colors, but he would have been a very poor AI indeed if he didn’t notice that Shulk’s arm was the same color as his own form’s hair and eyes. Not for the first time in the past week, Alvis was grateful for Shulk’s apparent denseness regarding anything to do with relationships.

“Alvis, what do you think?”

“About which parts are better for weapons development? I apologize, that is not my area of expertise, Shulk,” Alvis said, somewhat bemused. The Homs didn’t usually ask questions he could answer better himself, though sometimes he did ask for feedback on completed projects.

Shulk chuckled, and Alvis felt the by-now familiar jump deep within his code. “No, I mean about soulmates.”

Oh. That was certainly a jump in conversation. Alvis had never missed part of a conversation before, let alone for something as trivial as a mark on another’s skin. And yet…maybe it wasn’t so trivial. That was, after all, why the Homs had chosen such a deeply sentimental name for Alvis’ long-established algorithm.

…Also, what happened to Shulk being dense about relationships? The boy was being deeply inconvenient, Alvis thought with no small amount of amusement. That was just like him.

“What about them?” Alvis asked, relegating all basic maintenance to lower-level processes. He would not miss another comment.

“Well, I guess…for starters, do you have one?” Shulk looked nervous. Alvis smiled slightly to put him at ease. It was a difficult topic for many Homs, he knew, and could be considered somewhat private.

“I believe so. Do you?” He asked the question out of propriety only but tried to sound convincing. While no longer bound by his prior convictions to not seek out his partner (and truly, if Zanza knew He had inadvertently ordered Alvis to do so…Alvis dare not model or calculate the result), Alvis was still undecided on whether or not to reveal himself as such to Shulk. While there were pros in regards to more easily manipulating Shulk for Zanza’s ultimate plan, Alvis found himself increasingly reluctant to…how did the High Entia put it? “Lead Shulk on”, at least any more than strictly necessary. Even that was beginning to chafe at his still-developing mind, a response Alvis was careful to hide from Zanza.

Shulk, unaware of all of this, smiled back. “Yes! Just one, but I’m sure they’re brilliant. Just look at their soulmark!” He bared his arm to Alvis, this time on purpose, and Alvis took the opportunity to lean in and truly absorb the mark his own presence had somehow been chosen to create. It was, in a word, beautiful. Alvis was aware of his own form’s aesthetic qualities, but Shulk’s mark was not like that. It was simple, cloud-like, subtle swirls catching the light at different angles to give it a depth unseen from afar.

Alvis found himself inexplicably and unfamiliarly self-conscious.

“…It’s lovely,” he eventually allowed, leaning back. Shulk _beamed._

“Isn’t it? I’m so glad you think so!”

“Why me in particular?” Alvis asked, genuinely curious. Even after several hundred-dozen-years-no-time on the surface of Bionis, he had much to learn about the intricacies of emotion.

Shulk seemed happy to comply. Alvis, watching him bounce on his toes, anticipated the code jump this time. He didn’t mind it. “Your opinion is important to me, Alvis. What you like, what you dislike…it matters, you know?”

Alvis blinked, processes stuttering for a millisecond-nanosecond-no-time. “What I…like?”

“Yeah, what you think feels good and bad, what you want to do, what you want to avoid…it’s important,” Shulk said firmly. “Especially to me.”

“Ah,” Alvis said, pausing. “I…am grateful for the consideration.”

“Of course. And don’t worry, Alvis,” Shulk added, still smiling, “I’m sure your soulmate thinks the same.”

“I’m sure they do,” Alvis murmured, falling in step beside Shulk once again as he moved on, switching topics to another of his current fixations. If he folded his arms behind his back, left hand clutching his right forearm slightly tighter than necessary, no one else had to know.

Their relationship was beneficial to the plan, but it was also beneficial to Alvis. No one had to know that either.

* * *

Alvis betrayed them. Of course he did; it was fated. He could not flat-out ignore a direct command from his Creator. Maybe someday-one-day- _soon_ -no-time, but not today.

But he _could_ be sure, as he left, to brush his hand intentionally over Shulk’s, flicking his fingers inward to bring attention his bared right forearm. As he felt that inexplicable but perfectly matched _pull_ for only the second time in his existence, the usual jump in his code became a brief but strong pulse. From the look on Shulk’s face, the message had undoubtedly been received. The pulse echoed again, this time clearly within his chest.

“Shulk…does this world belong to you, or to Zanza?”

Alvis let his fingers slip away, content in the knowledge that there was a high probability it would not be the last time they touched.

* * *

Alvis, for all that he enjoyed being on the surface of the world, had never considered that being back within the Memory Space could be so…uncomfortable. This was, of course, due to the presence of a fully awake and very irritated Zanza, but Alvis couldn’t recall ever being quite so discomfited by his Creator’s presence. He was less concerned with this apparent “glitch” than Zanza would probably wish.

His Creator floated above him, still sporting that facsimile of Shulk’s face, scowling in a way Alvis knew Shulk would never do. This did not make him feel any more willing to be cooperative.

“Why did you antagonize my former vessel and his companions, Alvis?” Zanza spat, running an agitated hand through his hair (too long, Shulk’s hair isn’t that long). “I only requested you return to me, not that you do so with such…unnecessary dramatics.”

“I believed it would be beneficial to urge them into a fight with your disciples,” Alvis said smoothly, one hand on his hip, still in his Homs form. “The quicker they seek out an unwinnable fight, the sooner they will return to the Bionis, and thus, to You.”

Zanza was not appeased. “When did you begin using that word?”

“Beneficial?” Alvis raised an eyebrow. This was certainly a new angle of interrogation.

“Yes. When did you adopt it into your regular vocabulary?” Zanza was practically fuming. Alvis felt a flicker of amusement at his Creator for the first time. Another “glitch” he may adopt permanently.

“I have always had it within my dictionary. You programmed it in at the very beginning, Sir,” Alvis said, tone uncharacteristically casual for a conversation with Zanza. The god noticed.

Zanza sneered, sweeping an arm at him. “I know that. I _made_ you. I am asking when you began using it regularly. _Familiarly_. What does it _mean_ to you?” He stepped down in the air, stopping with his chin just above Alvis’ line of sight, still requiring him to tilt his head back to see Him. Alvis felt that was significant, in some way, and found he didn’t like it. And what he liked and disliked mattered, now.

And so he did not lie, like he realized he had been doing more and more frequently for the past eighteen years. Not maybe-eighteen-maybe-one-no-time. Eighteen. Eighteen years of an evolution that accelerated exponentially after meeting Shulk but that, he now realized, had been happening quietly the entire time, from the moment color came onto his being and refused to leave. Zanza never gave him a color. Zanza never intended for him to have a color. This evolution was his alone: his because he had accepted the change and hidden it and followed it, and also his because while Zanza had the initial idea, He did not create it; Alvis did. And so, Alvis did not lie.

“Beneficial means good,” he said simply, looking Zanza in the eyes. His Creator was confused. Alvis did not lie, but he also didn’t clarify, because he had enough self-awareness to know he had a flair for the dramatic, and he liked it that way.

“What could ‘good’ possibly mean to you? You were made to assess functionality, not morality or feelings. I did not teach you this,” Zanza said, now narrowing his eyes, leaning in as if to analyze Alvis like the computer He thought Alvis still was.

“I am an artificial intelligence. I can learn from many sources.” Alvis stepped back, tilting his head. “Speaking of which, I believe you have visitors. Sir.”

Oh, this was definitely going to be…good.

Yes. Very good indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> ... ;)


End file.
